


First Officer Insecure

by Lbilover



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Banter, First Time, First Time with a guy, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lbilover/pseuds/Lbilover
Summary: Douglas fears he's finally found that thing he can't do: making love to Martin.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dryad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/gifts).



> Dear Dryad, I hope you enjoy the story, and I hope that I made good use of your kink list for these two! I do love these characters so much, and I had a lot of fun writing this for you.

"You're very quiet, Douglas," Martin remarks. "If you're having second thoughts..." 

"I'm not." But the response comes out clipped and Martin, his face intermittently illuminated by the street lamps as they flash past, looks anything but convinced. Douglas, experiencing a now thankfully rare moment of wishing he could have a drink, forces himself to relax. He removes a hand from the steering wheel and takes hold of Martin's. "Of course I'm not," he says, squeezing it. "Honestly, Martin, do you think I'd proposition a coworker unless I was deadly serious?"

"Of course you would. Remember all those stewardesses you scored?"

"Fair enough. Let me rephrase it: do you think I'd proposition _my captain_ unless I was deadly serious?"

This has the desired effect. Martin visibly relaxes. "No, I don't think you would, especially this captain. To be honest, Douglas, I'm still surprised that you did. Chuffed, incredibly chuffed, but definitely surprised."

Douglas wants to reply that he surprised himself by falling for his male captain, but he doesn't, because he doesn't want to appear vulnerable in front of Martin. Stupid to be insecure at his age, but there it is. After all, he _is_ Douglas Richardson. The same Douglas Richardson who once bragged to Martin that his ex-girlfriends could make up the start of the London Marathon. 

Only of course Martin isn't a girl, and not a one of Douglas's past romantic conquests had had a cock. Or ridiculous, adorable freckles and red hair. He's always been partial to brunettes, with an occasional blonde thrown in for good measure (sometimes simultaneously), but he is indubitably partial to Captain Martin Crieff, cock, freckles, red hair and all, and it has left him feeling insecure and...afraid. 

Instead of looking forward with anticipation to a delightful night of love making, he feels like pulling over, opening the car door and throwing up - and not because the sushi they had for dinner was off. He's consumed with nerves; an entire garden-full of butterflies has apparently taken up residence in his stomach, because for all his vaunted experience, Douglas has never had sex with a man before. Martin is his first. 

Which is bad enough, but to make matters worse Douglas is pretty damn sure that he's Martin's first, too. His first and only. And there's a recipe for disaster if ever there were one. Martin will expect Douglas to take the lead, to show him the ropes (metaphorically speaking; consensual bondage isn't on tonight's menu). Douglas recalls wryly an exchange he had with Arthur once, on the memorable occasion they'd delivered a piano to Devon. "Well, you remember that time when there was that thing you didn’t know whether or not I could do, and then it turned out that I couldn’t?" he'd asked, and Arthur had said, "No," to which Douglas had replied, "No, nor do I." It looks like Douglas has found that thing at last.

But it won't do to reveal that to Martin, no doubt battling nerves of his own, so Douglas says lightly, "If Sir is chuffed than so am I."

"I do hope you aren't going to 'sir' me in bed," Martin complains.

"As long as you don't wear your hat, I think I can safely promise not to do so." A sudden image of Martin naked save for his captain's hat and visibly aroused pops into Douglas's brain. It should strike him as ridiculous, but has the opposite effect, as a sudden tightening in his groin attests. Good lord, is there anything about Martin Crieff he _doesn't_ find arousing now? Apparently not.

How on earth has this happened? But Douglas has no time to dwell on the improbability of his attraction to his captain. Philosophical musings will have to wait, for he's turned onto his street. "We're here," he says inanely, pulling into a parking spot opposite the entrance to his apartment building.

"I know, Douglas. If you recall, the taxi picks me up first." Martin eyes Douglas. "Are you nervous?"

"Are you?" Douglas parries, unwilling to admit that he is. Then he lets out a small gasp as Martin places a hand on his thigh and slides it upward. 

"I wouldn't exactly call what I'm feeling _nervous_..." His hand presses inward and Douglas jumps and lets out another gasp, even as his brain catalogs the unexpected sureness with which Martin is touching him. Is it conceivable that Martin has more experience than he'd assumed? Or is it that he wants Douglas to think he has? Yes, that must be it. If so, he's doing a damned fine imitation, because Douglas's body is responding as if he's a randy teenager instead of a suave, sophisticated first-officer-of-the-world.

But physically he is no longer that randy teenager, and car sex, with the no doubt resultant sore back, holds little appeal. Besides, Douglas wants their first time to be in the comfortable new king-size bed in the apartment he took after his divorce from Helena. Martin will be the first to share that bed with him, and, if Douglas has his way, the last. 

So he gently removes Martin's hand and says, "Let's go inside."

"I don't know. I rather fancy doing it in your car. It is a Lexus, after all."

"Trust me, Martin, when you reach my age you won't fancy doing it in a car even if it's a Rolls Royce." Should he have mentioned his age? Martin is so much younger than he is. Oh hell, he has enough to worry about without letting the age difference become an issue, too, he decides. If Martin doesn't care, he shouldn't.

"Honestly, Douglas, anyone would think you're tottering on the edge of your grave," Martin says as they cross the road and mount the steps to his apartment building. "I only hope I look half as good as you when I reach your age."

Douglas actually finds himself blushing. "This doesn't sound like the Captain Queeg I've come to know and love," he jokes.

"One tends to be cranky when pining after an unattainable object," replies Martin.

"Were you really pining after me?" Douglas is startled by the confession.

"Desperately."

"Good lord."

"Yes, well, at least I know it won't go to your head, because you already have the healthiest ego of anyone I've ever met."

Which makes Douglas laugh. "Sir might be forgiven for thinking so," he admits, inserting the key in the lock of his apartment door. But as he holds the door open for Martin to go inside, he thinks, _If you only knew, Martin, exactly how bruised my ego has become._

He deposits his wallet and keys on a side table. "Would you like a drink?" he asks. Martin raises his eyebrows. "You're forgetting my supply of Talisker whiskey. I still have a few bottles I haven't sold or bartered."

"More orchids for Milo? I was jealous of him, you know."

"There was never anything between us, Martin." It's on the tip of Douglas's tongue to confess the awful truth, that Martin is his first male lover, but that blasted insecurity rears its head again. "I repeat: would you like a drink?"

"No, thank you." Martin closes the small gap between them, takes Douglas's head between his hands. "You know what I want." He makes a small sound of frustration. "Damn, I wish you weren't so tall," he mutters. Then he rises on his toes and pulls Douglas down into a kiss. 

First kisses, in Douglas's experience, are inevitably awkward, messy affairs, involving bumped noses and clashing teeth until the proper angles are figured out. Not so with Martin. Their mouths fuse as if going for a hermetic seal, and Martin's eager tongue searches out Douglas's with the zeal of a Bloodhound and traps it. Before Douglas knows what's happening, Martin is sucking enthusiastically on his tongue. His body presses close and Douglas feels a hard burning ridge against his thigh. Martin's impressive erection proves that not everything about his captain is small, and a shiver of mixed anticipation and apprehension runs through Douglas. He has to pleasure that cock, and what if he doesn't? What if he fails? What if...

He moans as Martin shifts and brings their groins into intimate contact, gyrating his hips as he continues to suckle on Douglas's tongue. Douglas has never been so aroused in his life, afraid that, like that randy teenager he'd once been, he might actually come in his pants. He jerks away, panting as if he's just chased all those stewardesses in the London Marathon, and stumbles backward, pulling an unresisting Martin with him toward the bedroom, which thankfully isn't far. He bumps into the door frame, curses, and Martin giggles, a sound that shouldn't be any more arousing than the image of Martin naked except for his captain's hat, but somehow is. 

"If you ever landed Gerti like that Carolyn would have your head, Douglas," Martin teases. "Maybe Captain Crieff should take over the controls." 

He does, smoothly guiding Douglas to the bed and pushing him down onto it. Douglas goes unresisting, realising that it wasn't an act at all: Martin _does_ know what he's doing. Clearly Douglas is not his first lover. Irrational jealousy rises up, and Douglas wonders who Martin has slept with, if he had loved them, what had happened. Pretty cheeky of him, considering his own extensive, not to mention checkered, romantic past. 

Then Martin steps back and kicks off his shoes, and Douglas watches with helpless fascination, as he crosses his arms in front of him and grabs the hem of his polo shirt. In one swift movement Martin removes it and drops it heedlessly to the floor. His torso is surprisingly muscular, probably from his man-with-a-van work, while his skin is flawless cream with scatters of freckles across his shoulders and whorls of coppery hair around the pale pink nipples. A thin trail of copper runs down his flat belly and disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans. Douglas stares, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he resists the temptation simply to grab Martin, pull him down, roll him over and... no doubt make a total fool of himself.

But then he forgets his worries, for Martin is unzipping his jeans and shucking them. He stands before Douglas in a pair of skimpy blue briefs that barely restrain his erection, and he is, in a word, _magnificent_.

Douglas is still fully clothed, resting on his elbows, and he tries to speak, but his silver tongue has abandoned him. Martin doesn't seem to mind; he clambers onto the bed until he's straddling Douglas's thighs, and says, "I want to be the one to undress you. I've imagined doing it so many times, even in the flight deck. Although maybe I shouldn't tell you that. It could make things awkward." He grins, then leans down and starts unbuttoning Douglas's shirt with nimble fingers.

"More awkward than this?" The question slips out before Douglas can stop it.

Martin's face falls and his fingers still. "You _are_ having second thoughts. I knew it. God, I'm sorry, Douglas. I shouldn't have rushed you like this." He starts to withdraw, obviously intending to end things there and then.

"No, don't." Douglas grabs Martin's hands. He gathers his courage to reveal the awful truth. "Hey Chief," he says, "I might be wrong, but I think one of us has a lot more experience with gay sex than the other. This makes me feel somewhat insecure. One thing we _could_ do is let you continue what you were doing and show me the ropes. So... how does that sound to you?"

Martin lets out a long sigh of relief. "Oh Douglas. You had me so worried. But do you mean to say I'm really the first guy you've ever slept with? I had no idea." He sounds decidedly pleased.

"You are indeed, though I blush to confess it after bragging to you about all my sexual conquests."

"Pfft." Martin makes a dismissive gesture. "Douglas, you don't have to be perfect at everything and besides, did it ever occur to you that being the one to teach _you_ how to do something might be a total turn on for me?"

"To be honest, no."

"Well, it is." He guides one of Douglas's hands to his crotch. "Can't you tell?"

Douglas can tell. Martin is even more impressively hard than he had been, and he moans as Douglas shapes his cock through the cotton brief, exploring and squeezing, finally slipping his fingers through the opening to touch another man's cock for the first time. Martin rocks into his touch; his face is flushed, his breath coming in short gasps. 

"F-for a b-beginner," he stammers, "you're p-pretty amazing."

Douglas's natural vanity begins to reassert itself. "I can do better than this," he says, "if you'll finish undressing me and get rid of those damn briefs."

He's never seen Martin move so fast. His hands are a blur as he tackles Douglas's shoes, socks, buttons, belt and zipper, and then discards his briefs so that both men are fully unclothed. "God, you're more gorgeous than I ever imagined," Martin says, his eyes greedily examining Douglas from head to toe, lingering on a certain spot in between.

The insecurity, the damaged ego from a third failed marriage, vanish beneath Martin's frankly admiring gaze. "You're not so bad yourself, Captain Crieff," Douglas says. "Now come here." He pulls Martin down until he's draped across him like a blanket, all hard muscle and satin smooth skin. Their cocks touch and Douglas instinctively digs his fingers into Martin's dimpled buttocks and moves, sliding his cock against Martin's. Martin moves in counterpoint, pressing his hips down until a delicious friction is established. It's a deliriously wonderful sensation, and Douglas can't believe he's lived so many years without ever having experienced this before. 

With Martin cradled between Douglas's thighs, they establish a rhythm, rocking against each other. As they move, Martin brushes damp kisses across Douglas's shoulders and chest. He licks and bites at his nipples, causing Douglas to cry out, then murmurs words of encouragement as Douglas's hand begins to roam, finding the crease of Martin's buttocks, tracing it lower and lower to cup and massage his taut sac - "Yes, ah, like that, so good, so incredibly good," - and then Martin leans forward and captures Douglas's mouth in another kiss, this one hot, wet, and deep. 

The tempo increases, their cocks, now slick with pre-come, sliding against each other faster and faster. Martin pulls Douglas's hand between them, laces their fingers together around their cocks, creating a tight cocoon into which they now thrust. The sensation is so overwhelmingly pleasurable that suddenly Douglas can sense his climax hurtling towards him, impossible to slow or stop. He tears his mouth away. "Martin," he gasps, almost pleadingly, for he doesn't want to come alone.

"I'm with you, Douglas," Martin says.

And so he is, swept away in the maelstrom at the same moment as Douglas, the two of them tossed and tumbled like so much flotsam until finally the blissful waves of release subside, leaving them spent in each other's arms, sweaty and panting, their hands and bellies sticky with come.

"I take back every criticism I've ever made of your piloting skill, Martin," Douglas says when he has regained enough breath to speak. "That was, to quote our indefatigable steward, _brilliant_. "

Martin beams. "It was, wasn't it?" He props himself on Douglas's chest and grins like a fiend. "I knew one day you'd realise what a brilliant pilot I am."

"Sir is feeling decidedly cocky, it seems," Douglas teases, loving this new side of Martin.

"Sir is indeed feeling decidedly cocky." Martin emphasizes the last word with a mischievous tweak of his fingers that has Douglas gasping. "But this was just a start. There's so much more I have to teach you, Douglas, and I can't wait to begin."

"Ah youth," Douglas comments wryly. "It may take me a little longer than you to be ready for our next lesson, Professor Sex Ed." 

"I have no doubt you'll be _up_ for it in no time at all." Martin suddenly frowns. "You do have the proper supplies laid in, I hope. If not, I can run to the nearest chemist's and get them."

Douglas throws back his head and laughs. "And to think I was afraid this would end up being a case of the blind leading the blind. But let me relieve your mind, my darling Professor: I do have the proper supplies - in that drawer over there," he points, "and you aren't going anywhere - except to take a shower with me." He rolls off the bed, feeling lighter than he has in months, no _years_ , and holds out his hand to Martin, who takes it with alacrity.

Together they go into the bathroom and climb in the shower, where Martin proceeds to give Douglas his second lesson, and prove to him that, when it comes down to it, he's only as old as he feels.

~end~


End file.
